MiraFreed 2017: First Steps and Beyond
by ImpracticalDemon
Summary: Fairy Tail has successfully resisted Laxus' bid for control leaving tensions high between the guild members and Freed's Raijinshuu. Will Freed find the right time to speak to Fairy Tail's beloved Mirajane? If so, what will he tell her? (*Prompts* Ch1: Angel/Demon *Raijinshuu/Strauss Family* Ch2: Modelling & Flowers Ch3: Lipstick & Children) [Rating M for Ch.3/4]
1. I Will Love Her Darkness

**Author's Note**

This story takes place between the Battle of Fairy Tail and the Oracion Seis arcs.

It is intended to cover the prompts for both **Day 1** and **Day 2 of MiraFreed Week 2017** : (1) **Angel/Demon** ; and (2) **Raijinshūu & Strauss Siblings**.

* * *

 **First Steps: I Will Love Your Darkness**

* * *

Freed wasn't around Fairy Tail much after Laxus was banished. There were many reasons, of course.

For one thing, he and his team, the Raijinshūu, needed money to help pay for repairs to both the guildhall and the town of Magnolia. Nobody had asked them for the money; rather, Freed had spoken to Master Makarov the day after the battle for Fairy Tail to say that his team would pay the necessary amounts as soon as possible. Makarov had glared at him, knowing that most of the damage for which they would be paying was attributable to Laxus. But unlike many people, the master of Fairy Tail never forgot that Freed was the leader of the Raijinshūu and entitled to make decisions on their behalf. He also knew Freed.

"You take too much on yourself," Makarov had grumbled. But when Freed had simply nodded politely, that had been the end of it.

For another thing, the wounds caused by his team to the other members of Fairy Tail needed to heal a little before true peace could be restored. Makarov had not condemned the Raijinshūu as he had Laxus, but neither could he force his members to extend forgiveness to those who had harmed them. This was especially true for Freed, whose dark magic had caused them to harm each other. The physical wounds from Laxus' failed attack had been gone within a matter of days; the intangible damage to pride, trust and friendship would take much longer to repair.

The third reason for avoid the guildhall was the least obvious; it was, in fact known only to Freed, or so he'd thought. But when he, Evergreen and Bixlow had returned from their first post-conflict mission, he'd found Elfman waiting for him, and it hadn't been an easy meeting.

"I need to talk to you," Elfman had told Freed curtly, for once not pausing to greet Evergreen, whom he openly admired.

Elfman had been one of the worst hurt during Laxus' take-over bid. He'd tried to break the rules of one of Freed's rune wards, despite being warned against it. Freed's dark magic was tied to the demon within him, and it had insisted that Elfman pay the full price for his transgression. That price was to be tortured to the point of insanity and death. Since Freed accepted that the demon was a part of him, he was in agreement with the popular view that he had tried to kill Elfman in a particularly horrible way.

Freed had assumed—had hoped—that Elfman wanted to punish Freed in some way for what he had done. Unfortunately, the white-haired man had a big heart like his sister Mirajane, when it came to harm done to himself. He'd made his own mistakes, and although he respected strength and courage above all else, he was a good man. He was very protective when it came to his sister, of course. His younger sister had died under tragic circumstances. His older sister was his last living relative and he adored her.

Mirajane had once been one of Fairy Tail's most powerful mages, but at the time of her sister's death she had effectively locked away her power—her demon soul—in order not to cause harm to others. She had withdrawn from participating in missions, and had instead become Fairy Tail's chief bartender (and some said matchmaker). Mirajane was also one of the country's most successful models, and only seemed to gain in popularity each year. It wasn't just her brilliant white hair and beautiful blue eyes, or even her perfect figure that brought her admirers; rather, it was the way that each of those superficial attractions was enhanced by her extraordinary kindness to others.

Freed's attempt to kill Elfman had caused Mirajane to loose her demon soul—not to preserve herself, but to preserve her brother. Demon against demon, they had fought each other with every means at their disposal—and with killing intent. Mirajane had been the victor. And yet… she had not killed Freed. Instead, she had crouched over his bruised and beaten human form and forgiven him. Injured in body and soul, Mirajane Strauss had told Freed that neither of them should be fighting an ally. She had insisted to Freed that they were both still members of Fairy Tail.

So when Freed had told Evergreen to collect their reward for the mission, and had gone to a more private spot outdoors with Elfman, he had expected some kind of challenge. He'd already made up his mind to accept whatever abuse was offered, verbal or physical. After all, he deserved it. That's when he'd found out that his secret reason for avoiding the guildhall wasn't so secret after all.

"I want you to stay away from Mirajane," Elfman had told him, bluntly. "As a Man, I can get over what you did to me. But I've seen the demon inside you now—the one that tortures people—and I don't want it too close to my sister. Don't try to deny it: I've seen how you look at her when she looks away."

Freed had been taken aback. Not even Evergreen had commented on his carefully hidden, not-yet-to-be-spoken-of feelings for Mirajane.

"I think everyone looks at Mirajane, Elfman—she is very beautiful, after all." Freed had kept his poise, tilting his eyebrows up slightly to indicate confusion.

"I know. Make sure that's all it is."

He could have left it there, but that would have been a lie of omission to Freed's careful way of thinking. He was trying to avoid lies with people at Fairy Tail, in order to start rebuilding their trust. So, very reluctantly, he'd pressed further:

"And what if, some day, it's more than that?"

Elfman's arms were already crossed angrily over his broad chest, but now the top hand clenched into a fist.

"Just don't. She doesn't need another demon in her life. She's more angel than demon now anyway, in my opinion. If you think you care about her, remember that."

"I'll remember," Freed had told him, careful to be polite, but not deferential or apologetic. It was a fine line to walk.

The big man had stared at him hard, trying to gauge what he meant.

"I wish you hadn't fought her like you did," Elfman finally said. "She's too nice to people and she felt sorry for you."

"No," Freed had replied immediately. "She offered me friendship—or reminded me of it. And she felt compassion, because she knew that I was going to suffer either way—whether Laxus won or lost. It wasn't pity, it was understanding."

"So you did fall for her. I thought so. Well, I've said my piece." With a last scowl at Freed, Elfman had stalked back into the guildhall.

Freed had wished that he could set things straight, but it was still too soon. More time needed to pass. The wounds were still too raw.

He didn't even try to talk to Mirajane, except in passing, until returning from the team's third mission after Laxus' banishment. It had been more difficult to wait than he'd expected, because she had been puzzled and hurt when he had avoided her. The problem was that the attraction didn't only go one way. Maybe Elfman had understood that—maybe that's why he'd been so concerned—but just in case he didn't, Freed wasn't going to enlighten him. Not until people were better prepared to respect how Mirajane felt. Freed's feelings in the matter were secondary.

After the third mission, though, he'd decided that enough was enough. He couldn't balance everyone's needs indefinitely. He considered speaking with Elfman ahead of time, to warn him that he wasn't going to "stay away" any longer. However, while this approach would be honourable from one point of view, it would be wrong to speak to the lady's brother before the lady herself.

This time, once he had turned in the proofs for the mission and collected the team's reward, he had gone over to the bar and waited for Mirajane to be free. It didn't take long, since he'd deliberately come when things weren't busy.

"Hello, Freed. Staying for a drink today? That's unusual."

Her voice was quiet and held a trace of sadness. Freed was suddenly anxious to straighten things out as quickly as possible.

"I'm not here for a drink…"

"Oh? Meeting somebody, then?"

"Ah, yes, in fact—"

Their eyes met, blue looking up into lighter blue, and there was a moment of near-perfect understanding. Mirajane brightened.

"Shall we go for a walk?" she asked.

"Yes…" replied Freed, smiling a little. He hadn't wanted to smile in a long time.

Mirajane didn't even try to find somebody to cover the bar. Instead she gestured to Freed to follow her out a back-way that opened onto a tree-shaded lane.

There was nobody around, but Freed waited until they had left the track and walked some ways from the guildhall before saying anything. Then he stopped and faced Mirajane, his face serious. Without fanfare, but with considerable grace, he took her right hand in both of his.

"I care about you a great deal, Mirajane. I hope you'll believe me."

"I was beginning to think I was wrong…"

"I was worried that it was still too soon."

"Why?" Mirajane asked the question quietly, but with considerable force.

"Because of… many things. What I did to your friends and family was terrible, and there is still a lot of resentment around. If nothing else, I make other guild members uncomfortable. You're sensitive to these things and might want me to keep my distance for a while longer. But even just between the two of us you might have thought it was too soon…"

Freed tilted his head thoughtfully as he tried to explain. "You might be worried that your attraction to me is just sympathy invested with the trappings of something more significant. Or you might be concerned that my feelings are merely the result of enchantment, and lack depth. That would trouble you, since one tends to wake up from enchantment."

"Enchantment?" Mirajane's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What do you mean?"

"You demonstrated overwhelming power and then unstinting compassion. Anyone might be enchanted by that."

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"You want me to explain it to you?" Freed was honestly surprised. Before Mirajane could snap at him, though, or draw her hands away in irritation, he just nodded. "Alright… It would be a bad thing because feelings based on enchantment tend to evaporate the moment the enchantment wears off. Worse, the enchanted person feels as though they have been tricked when their idol doesn't live up to expectations. The difficulty is that you are used to enchanting people; you know that you do it. You have been adored for many years now. I think that has made it difficult for you to distinguish between genuine, romantic affection and infatuation."

"Do you mean love? If you do, then use the word. It won't hurt."

"…Mirajane, the word 'love' can hurt in many ways." Freed's expression darkened and grew distinctly uneasy. He took words very seriously.

Mirajane held up a hand. "I take it back. You're right. It's a messy, dangerous kind of word, isn't it?" All at once she looked rather forlorn. "Please finish what you were going to say. I have a feeling that I'm just trying to put off hearing the truth. I've seen others do it often enough—ask the question but not really want the answer, I mean."

Tentatively, Freed brushed some wayward strands of white hair back from her face, and then renewed his clasp on her hand. His own hands were strong, and the right one bore callouses from using a sword, but the overall impression was of long, elegant fingers and well-defined bones and tendons. Mirajane focused on his fingers as he spoke, finding it unsettling to be the one seeking rather than dispensing understanding. Vulnerability made her a shy, she realized.

"Before you were Mirajane the much beloved, you were Mirajane the Demon. I remember the Demon quite well. You were often angry and destructive, and rightly feared by just about everybody. You never realized how closely I watched you then, understanding your fear of the creature inside you—the one that Master Makarov insisted was just a type magic, no different than any other type except perhaps in power. Being able to shut away that frightening and frightened girl after—forgive me—Lisanna died must have been a relief."

Mirajane shivered slightly, but otherwise didn't comment. Seeing that she wasn't going to respond, Freed continued.

"Because of your past—having been so much feared and even disliked—you know better than most how wonderful it is to be universally adored."

There was a small puff of laughter from Mirajane: " _Almost_ universally, Freed. Erza and I still have our moments."

"The point is that you only allowed the Demon to come back as an absolute last resort to keep me from killing your brother. You were probably terrified as well as enraged. So…"

Mirajane sighed. "So it's fair for you to worry that I might not be ready for—how did you put it—'genuine, romantic affection' when it comes to the person who forced me to uncage the scariest part of myself."

"You won't be getting away from demon magic around me," Freed said simply. "I don't want either of us to live as pale shadows of what we really are."

"I'd rather be loved than be powerful."

"As you have proven, but… Why not try for both?"

Mirajane finally looked up, straight into Freed's intent blue eyes.

"That was implied use of the really messy, dangerous word, you know."

Freed sighed and put his hands on Mirajane's slim shoulders.

"Mirajane Strauss, I think I'm in love with you. I know I said—when we were in battle—that it takes a demon to master another demon. Well, I doubt that _this_ demon"—he indicated himself—"can master you, but he is going to try very hard to love you for everything that you are, both the light and the darkness. I'm not sure if anybody but a demon could do that."

Leaning down, Freed kissed the soft lips of Fairy Tail's darling angel, and dared her to become his demon lover.

* * *

 **[EPILOGUE]**

* * *

"I told you to stay away from my sister," grumbled the tall, white-haired man, arms once again crossed over his muscled chest.

"True," agreed the slim, green-haired man standing beside him, apparently unintimidated.

"And you didn't."

"Your sister's wishes were and are more important to me than yours, which is as it should be. Also, she needs me."

"Why?"

"Because I am at ease with her darkness, even when she isn't; she doesn't have to be perfect for me. Also, unlike you and the rest of Fairy Tail, I want a lover, not a mother."

"WHAT?!"

Freed gave Elfman a smile that was charming, if not apologetic. "I meant that figuratively, of course."

"Like hell you did!"

"You are going to have to decide whether you want what is best for her, or what is most comfortable for you."

"If you hurt her…" Elfman mumbled, still unhappy with the situation but starting to give in.

"I can assure you that I will be either dead or damned by that point—but you are welcome to jump on the pieces if it will help."

Elfman pondered this briefly, and then he held out a massive hand. "Yeah, I think it might, actually. Deal?"

"…Deal."

* * *

[END]

* * *

 **A/Note:**

Your feedback and encouragement would be greatly appreciated! Please leave a review—even if it's just a few words—if you enjoyed the story. Or send me a question or comment by PM or message on fanfiction or tumblr if there something that you would prefer to ask about or mention to me that way. I hope to write at least one more piece for MiraFreed Week 2017. They're challenging characters, but worth exploring.


	2. In the Limelight

**Author's Note**

I regret the delay in posting this chapter; there was a RL matter that seriously occupied my time over the past several days. I hope you enjoy today's offering, though! :)

This story takes place between the Battle of Fairy Tail and the Oracion Seis arcs, if the timeline permits. Otherwise it could be after team Natsu returns immediately after the Oracion Seis arc.

This chapter takes place about three months after the last chapter.

It is intended to cover the prompts for both **Day 3** and **Day 4 of MiraFreed Week 2017** : (3) **Modelling** ; and (4) **Flowers**.

* * *

 **Chapter 2** — **First Steps: In the Limelight**

* * *

 **[I] - Morning Tea**

* * *

Freed walked unhurriedly to the Fairy Tail guildhall, impeccably dressed as usual in his trademark knee-length coat and white cravat. The coat was dark blue today, because he knew that Mirajane liked the colour on him. It was still an odd feeling—to know that somebody cared enough to have an opinion on what he wore, and to care enough for them in return to want to accommodate their preference.

He nodded to Gray and Natsu, who were having an animated discussion over a job poster they'd brought to their table to look over. When he realized that against all odds it actually was just a discussion and not a fight, he stopped to wish them a good morning. Gray returned the greeting with his usual "hey, Freed"; Natsu waved, but kept talking about the job. It was interesting to see those two in moments when they were behaving like adults instead of kids. Freed had known them both for several years, and was impressed with how quickly they were developing their powers.

On a more personal note, he appreciated the fact that they were both civil to him—willing to be friendly, even. There were still quite a few ostensibly more mature guild members who resented what he had done during the battle of Fairy Tail. Natsu was quick to anger and quick to move on, just as he had been in the past. Gray was just as reserved as he'd always been with people he didn't know well; he wasn't one to wear his feelings on his sleeve around strangers. That was fine with Freed, who could relate; it hadn't taken long for Freed to understand that a basic "hey, Freed" was Gray's way of being polite. At this point, it didn't reflect any true coldness.

Both of the somewhat younger men had taken his developing relationship with Mirajane in stride. It wasn't their business and they didn't want it to be. If anything, they were happy to see the Fairy Tail/Raijinshūu rifts closing. Freed appreciated both aspects to their attitude. It made the animosity—the occasional glare, or deliberate slight—easier to shrug off.

"Are you going to the fashion show to see Mirajane this afternoon?" asked Gray, ignoring Natsu's continued attempts to get him interested in the mission on the poster.

"There's a fashion show?" asked Natsu, interrupting himself to swivel around. "What kind of fashion show?"

Gray rolled his eyes at him. "What do you mean, what kind of fashion show, flame-brain? It's a fashion show—models like Mirajane will walk down some kind of raised walkway showing off fancy clothes. What did you have in mind?"

"Oi! Enough with the sarcasm, ice princess! I was just curious, that's all." Natsu hunched his shoulders irritably. "Erza and Lucy mentioned it and you never know with them—could've been armour or costumes or something. Why do you care anyway? You can barely keep your clothes on—can't imagine what use you'd have for anything fancy..."

"I care," replied Gray with exaggerated patience, "because the florist asked for my help keeping the flowers for the show fresh and I was hoping to find somebody who would could take the most delicate case—with a few special pieces—over to the location for me. Saves me an extra trip."

"I can do that," Freed put in. "I wonder if I can ask a favour in return—nothing that you aren't already doing."

"What do you need?"

"I'd like to bring flowers. If I could keep them cool with your magic instead of mine, it would be less… conspicuous."

Gray nodded, mostly to himself. Although people were starting to accept Freed and his team again, the dark aura—or at least appearance—of his runes could cause consternation. Or at least a negative reaction. Gray had noticed that Freed wasn't too concerned when people weren't always the nicest to him, but that he tended to look a little scary if it affected Mirajane.

They spent a few more minutes chatting and sorted out some details. It meant that Freed was a bit late for his mid-morning tea with Mirajane, but it was worth it. Every relationship that he built or rebuilt within Fairy Tail made Mirajane happier. It had occurred to Freed recently that Mirajane still wasn't completely sure that he was going to stick around instead of running off to track down Laxus. Every time he created ties to Fairy Tail, she felt more secure. She wasn't wrong that Laxus was very important to him. What she couldn't seem to accept was how much of his heart was hers. He hoped to take a step forward today.

Mirajane was in the square room behind the bar that she used as an office whenever she was acting as Fairy Tail's hostess for the day. Today, she looked preoccupied, although she had his tea and her coffee waiting on the round table she kept in one corner of the room. She was fiddling absently with a napkin, which wasn't like her.

"Good morning, Freed... I saw you talking to Gray and Natsu—is everything okay?"

Freed smiled, taking a moment to appreciate how lovely she was this morning in her soft white sundress with its print of bright flowers. He bent over to kiss her lips, brushed her cheek with his fingers, and seated himself. He always made a point of touching her whenever they meant. Because of her past, when people had been very afraid of her magic—as had she—she had become used to keeping a slight physical distance from people unless she was very certain they were comfortable with her and vice versa.

"Everything is fine. Better than usual, really, since they weren't fighting." Freed sipped at his tea, a simple green with lemon and nothing added. "Gray assumed that I'd be going over to the show later and asked me take some of the flowers for him. He's helping out with his ice magic, I take it. Seems strange to me, but he didn't look put out over it."

Mirajane took a delicate bite of the lemon cookies that she'd set out as a snack. She was an excellent cook. Freed recognized that the cookies had been chosen for him, since they went far better with his tea than with her coffee. It was part of how they were working out their relationship: small gifts of time; changes to long-established routines; a willingness to give priority to a person who wasn't Laxus (or Evergreen or Bixlow), in Freed's case, or Elfman (or any of a dozen members of Fairy Tail), in Mirajane's case. Every couple had to do such things, of course, but people as aware as Freed and Mirajane did it consciously—and carefully. Taking care was important when the partners each controlled so much power and potential for destruction.

"The guild has been trying to get to know the townsfolk of Magnolia a bit better since all the battle," Mirajane told him, once she'd finished swallowing. "A number of the members came up with the same idea, and I liked it, so I agreed to try to set up what you might call more everyday jobs—like Gray helping out the florist by providing specialized ice to keep flowers cool. He actually had to spend some time figuring out how to make it work."

"What do they get in return?" Freed asked, intrigued.

"Just goodwill, sometimes—and you can be sure that I don't let anyone get taken advantage of! But in many cases, small gifts, future concessions, and so on. If Gray were dating somebody, then he'd probably find it easier to get flowers at a busy time of year, or maybe he'd get a discount or something. Since he isn't"—

"Yet," murmured Freed, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"Since he isn't dating _yet_ ," said Mirajane, dimpling slightly, "even though you would think—but never mind that. The point is that I'm sure he'll work something out with the florist. We're only just starting out, so who knows how it will go overall?"

"Very well, I expect," Freed assured her.

"Because I'm running it?" asked Mirajane, a trace of laughter in her blue eyes.

"Because it's an excellent idea," Freed responded gravely, ignoring the bait. Mirajane pretended to pout. Freed's mock-serious expression quirked into a slight smile: "And because you're running it, of course."

When Freed stood up to go, about twenty minutes later, he leaned down as if to give Mirajane his customary kiss. He surprised her by speaking quietly into her ear instead.

"I know something's bothering you and I can tell it has to do with me."

Mirajane reddened. She wasn't quite sure what troubled her more: the way that he'd gotten to know her so well within the last three months, or the fact that his warm breath on her ear made her conscious that he was a very good looking man. Before she could respond, Freed bent his head lower, kissed her gently just below her ear, and then on the lips.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," he told her, ignoring her blush. "And if you don't, that's alright too." He waited a moment, and then bowed slightly when she didn't speak. "I'll see you later this afternoon, Mira. I'm looking forward to the show."

* * *

 **[II] - A Path Among the Briars: Hidden Thorns**

* * *

The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip toward the horizon as the final ensembles—filmy summer gowns—were being shown off by the region's top three models, which naturally included Mirajane. Although there had been some men's clothing featured earlier on, there was no question that it had been rather limited in sophistication and style compared to what had been on display for women. Freed hadn't seen much of great interest overall, but he would have been the first to admit that he was far more interested in watching Mirajane than the clothes. She looked wonderful no matter what she wore, but to Freed's perception it was the elegance of mind, magic and body together that made her stand out. The other two models were much taller than the lovely mage, but her presence eclipsed their height.

As the local favourite, Mirajane was the last of the three models to swirl down the runway, looking very much like a fairy in gossamer-thin chiffon over sheer silk in deceptively simple white that somehow glowed and shimmered like opal as she moved. Somebody had either been very lucky or very skillful in arranging the time and place of the show: the gown looked almost magical against the deepening rosy-orange hues of the sky. There was a rustle of whispers and indrawn breaths across the crowd, and then Natsu—who had arrived toward the end of the show, the gods only knew why—started to cheer. A moment later he was being shown how to clap politely by his teammates, Erza and Lucy. They had apparently pulled his scarf tight over his mouth.

It might have been because he was watching her so closely that Freed saw sudden apprehension dawn on Mirajane's face just as she took a moment to glance down at him. Acting on long-honed instinct,[i] he twisted and vaulted lightly onto the edge of the catwalk. Even as he moved, the place where he had been standing was doused in sticky black oil by the man who had been on his right. It was absurd and yet somehow menacing; the expression on the man's face was venomous. Mirajane looked stricken and then masked her expression with a graceful half-curtsey to Freed as if asking him to join her.

Freed flicked his eyes over his would-be assailant, even as he closed the short distance to Mirajane's side. It took an immense effort of will not to make the man suffer immediately for ruining Mira's pleasure in her success. Freed tended strongly toward the concept of law and order, not to mention crime and punishment; in this case what held his hand was the realization that almost any retaliation would reflect worse on him and those associated with him than on the perpetrators. The fact that Erza had appeared at the man's side helped considerably. Whatever he'd tried to shout was muffled by a strong (albeit white-gloved) hand over his mouth.

"You look incredible in that gown, Mira," he told her sincerely. "If you will do me the honour of letting me accompany you for a few moments, I would appreciate it. I can't do you justice, of course." He gave her wry look and extended his hand with a bow.

Mirajane managed a dazzling professional smile, although it didn't reach her eyes. Fortunately, most people in the crowd simply treated Freed as additional entertainment—the incident itself hadn't been visible to very many. Freed's name had been coupled with Mirajane's in recent magazine articles, and Fairy Tail wizards were notoriously eccentric, although Mirajane was generally held to be an exception.

The good-looking pair strolled to the end of the catwalk, Freed holding Mirajane's fingertips in his own as if he were about to lead her into some old-fashioned dance. He was careful to ensure that she could still show off her gown—and figure—to advantage. On the whole, it went quite well, although they were both glad to leave the runway once they'd returned to the far end. Mirajane still had to go back to give a short speech about the beauties of Magnolia, and to receive a small tribute and gift from the show organizer, but other than that she was done for the day.

While Mirajane was in the dressing room changing, Gray came over to Freed with the boxed flowers that the ice mage had agreed to bring.

"Didn't realize you were taking up modelling," Gray commented, with slightly raised brows.

"The timing was right," replied Freed, straight-faced.

"Ah. Well, apparently the guy who tried to give you a makeover right before your big debut wasn't looking for autographs. Seems that he's the head of one of Mirajane's nuttier fan clubs, and pretty disturbed that his fair-haired goddess has taken up with, um, somebody like you."

"Like me?"

"Maybe he doesn't like cravats? His goal was to paint you as black as your evil heart—or something like that. So that Mirajane would see you for what you really are. Anyway, that's all I heard from Erza, who said that you could break the bad news to Mirajane."

Freed had been about to turn away, but he paused.

"Bad news?" he asked, cautiously. With Erza, you never quite knew.

Gray smirked. "Yeah… Erza introduced the guy to Elfman—so to speak. Said that such a loyal supporter deserved to meet the family."

Freed thanked Gray for the news and the flowers and was waiting outside the dressing room when Mira emerged. He was a little surprised—and disappointed—when he saw that Lucy and Cana were with her.

"Don't worry, lover-boy," said Cana, poking him on the shoulder and eyeing the flower box with interest. "We were just touching base and bringing Mira up to speed. That guy was awfully sweet on her, but he wasn't playing with a full deck, if you know what I mean." Cana flipped her own deck of cards up into the air in some kind of complicated shuffle, and turned over the top card one-handed. "Aw, look at that, Luce, the Joker looks just like Freed!"

Freed had managed to end up at Mirajane's side with his arm around her waist, but he leaned in to look good-naturedly.

"You drew little green lightning bolts onto his hair?" asked Lucy, peering at the card.

"Ha! No, sometimes my cards just kinda pick things up. You look good in the harlequin outfit, lover-boy. But seriously, Freed, next time you model, get some tips from Gray—that woulda been way more exciting if you'd stripped."

"Cana!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your lacy pink bikinis in a twist, Mira. Oops! Look at the time—gotta go!"

Cana dragged Lucy off with her (possibly as a shield in case of retaliation from the fuming model), sending a parting shot over her shoulder: "You know what they say Mira—if you've got it, flaunt it! Better yet—share it!"

There was a short silence, and then Freed offered his arm. Although the episode with the crazy fan still disturbed him, certain of Cana's comments to Mirajane had taken a certain hold of his imagination. They started walking through the lovely public garden that had been the site of the show. Mirajane usually had boundless energy, but she seemed tired.

"I thought I was overreacting," she admitted.

"Ah… to what?" Freed blushed very slightly, trying rein in his imagination.

Mirajane gave him a critical look, and her somber expression lifting a little.

"Well, not to Cana, if that's what got your, er, knickers in a twist!" She peeped sideways at Freed and thought she saw the flush deepen across his cheekbones.

"Um… I'm not sure—"

"And they're not pink. But they are cute and lacy."

This time the blush wasn't her imagination, but Freed said nothing, just kept his eyes focussed ahead.

"Tell me what happened with your fan," he asked. "I assume that's what was bothering you this morning."

"I got an anonymous message—several actually—saying that you should leave me alone and things like that. And odd threats, very theatrical sounding."

"Maybe he was hoping for tar and feathers, but it was difficult to be inconspicuous with a large pillow—or chicken—at a fashion show. Still, it was unpleasant and I sorry it ruined things for you."

"Oh… in retrospect it's not so bad. But I was pretty sure it was him, you see. And then I realized he was right beside you."

"I should thank him for letting me spend more time with you."

"I suppose."

"Mira, here's a pretty place where we can sit, and I can give you your flowers."

She smiled up at him, noticing that he looked rather serious. The bench sat on a grassy sward and looked out over a wide lily pond. Brightly coloured fish swam like living gems in the depths, and the sunset was reflected in the gently rippling water.

Once they had sat down, she took the box, admiring the little snowflake design imprinted on the lid.

"One of Gray's boxes?"

"Mm-hmm. The florist did tremendous business today."

Mirajane lifted the lid and pushed aside the tissue paper. She smiled as she uncovered two dozen glorious long-stem roses, intermixed white and red. She'd never seen roses quite this size or style before—and even the scent was wonderful. Much of the foliage had been left on around the stems.

"I know that roses are rather traditional, but then, so am I," said Freed. "However, these are unusual roses."

Mirajane picked up one velvety red rose, admiring the deep colour. Then she gave a soft, involuntary cry, and brought a finger to her mouth.

"Thorns? I thought the florist generally got the ones without thorns? And… these are fairly serious thorns."

"They are, and florists do—dispense with thorns, that is. Easier for them, and the customer. But I bought these ones from somebody who grows the most spectacular flowers. He tends to prefer his plants with all of their natural defenses."

"You convinced _Droy_ to part with some of his plants? And since when does he experiment with roses?"

"It was a special commission. We also discussed possible applications, and he believes the thorns could be quite useful."

Mira sat turning the incredible—and dangerous—red rose in her hands. Freed picked out a white rose and handed that to her as well.

"You're being symbolic, aren't you?" Mirajane said quietly.

"I'm afraid so."

"Beautiful roses with deadly thorns."

"Yes, but still the very best roses there are—although perhaps the thorns can only be appreciated by a few."

"What… is this about, Freed?"

"We've been seeing each other for three months." Freed hesitated then continued, watching Mira holding her two roses, enjoying the scent and the soft petals, but careful to hold the stems by the foliage or between the thorns. "And I wondered if, sometime in the near future, we could pick out an apartment together, or maybe a small townhouse." He sensed Mirajane go very still, her eyes still fixed on the roses.

"You see," Freed explained, picking his words with care, "you live with your brother, and you're very close. And I live with my team, and that's fine too. But I want us to be something more to each other. Maybe not married, because that's an even bigger step, in my opinion. But to share a space that we choose together and make ours. Learning each other's' habits—even the bad ones. Hopefully choosing to share a bed, although I can patient—despite how it may seem."

The silence stretched for almost five minutes, and then Mirajane sighed and set the roses back into the box. Freed tried and failed not to tense, but she had only left her hands open to take his, and optimism returned. He searched her well-known face for a hint of her thoughts.

"That's… a pretty major proposal. Or proposition."

"I know."

"But I'm not against it."

"So?" Freed asked, trying to remain as calm and steady as usual.

"Let's go looking. We can get people used to it in the meantime."

"Is that a yes?"

Finally, Mirajane laughed. "Yes, it's a yes. You really caught me off-guard though. I should be demanding to get married first or something though…"

"We can talk about that."

She shook her head. "You're very certain—about us, I mean."

"I am."

They stared at each other for quite a while, and then Freed leaned forward as he had much earlier in the day, to whisper in her ear: "I love you. You're the right person for me. And I'm the right person for you. I really believe that. I will look after you, and protect you, and treasure you. And I will share my secrets with you, and trust you, and let you look after me. That's what I want." His hands reached cradled the back of her head. Before he kissed her, he added:

"And, of course, at some point, I absolutely, definitely want to make love to you."

Mirajane blushed and tried to say something, but it got lost in the kiss.

* * *

 **[END]**

* * *

[i] I resisted adding references to mystic and valor here. As you can see. If you don't catch the reference, you truly, **_truly_** aren't missing anything.

* * *

 **A/Note:** I've had a concept in mind for this story from the start; as you can tell, it's primarily a romance, but a romance that I felt could work. It's like trying to fill in the colours while keeping the shape of the art the same. As usual, I'm learning as much from writing the characters as I have from the anime, fanpages and fanworks. I hope this chapter was enjoyable for those who appreciate this couple. **\\(^u^)/** As always, reviews, notes and comments are greatly appreciated. Just a simple comment can really make a writer's day!


	3. Beyond Kisses

**A/Note:** This chapter, as long as it is, focuses entirely on Mirajane and Freed and the complications that can arise when two powerful people try to forge an intimate relationship. **The chapter is rated M as a precaution, as there is at least implied sexual content.** The next chapter will also be rated M and will have sexual content.

I have decided to increase the rating for the whole story rather than have the M-rated chapters in a different place as I've done before. If you have any concerns over content, please feel free to send me a PM.

I hope that you enjoy the story!

~ImpracticalOni

* * *

 **First Steps: Beyond Kisses**

(Prompts: Day 5—Lipstick; Day 6—Children)

* * *

 **[I]—Tea and Kisses**

* * *

As expected, the gossip mill churned with great fervour when it became known that Mirajane and Freed were actively looking for an apartment together. Eventually, there was even a small article about it in the Sorcerer's Weekly, featuring pictures of Mirajane dressed in everything from a skimpy bikini to a floor-length ball gown. The only picture of Freed was from the fashion show in which he'd involuntarily participated, and while he looked elegant enough, the editor seemed to have deliberately chosen the one shot where the angle made his slight smile look more like a leer.

"Well, maybe that was the only photo that the show organizers would allow them to publish," said Mirajane, as they read the article together at their regular date for morning tea. Her voice was light, and she even sounded amused, but Freed knew his lady too well. The over-tight grip on her mug and the angry gleam in her blue eyes was more indicative of her mood.

"Perhaps," Freed agreed. "But we both doubt it, so why pretend? The door is closed and I promise not to repeat anything you have to say about the magazine's editors beyond these four walls."

Mirajane gave him a fond smile, the dangerous spark fading from her eyes.

"I've learned to keep my temper… and sometimes it's easier to keep it if I don't let go of it even in private. For one thing, getting angry around Elfman always sets him off, which seldom works out well. He's very protective, as you may have noticed. But somehow when you tell me to get angry and say exactly what I'm thinking, I no longer feel especially angry."

"That's too bad," Freed commented. "You are not only lovely when you're angry, but also very witty—in a scathing, flay-your-opponent-alive kind of way. By the way, I see that you've finally found a lipstick that is dark enough to match those roses Droy created for you. The colour suits you very well."

He picked up the small cake that she had set down in her annoyance at seeing the photos, broke off a piece, and fed it to her. It was a deliberately sensual—rather than romantic—gesture, and he was pleased to see that Mira's eyes focussed on the way that he licked the crumbs from his fingertips afterward, instead of returning to the magazine.

"You're trying to seduce me, aren't you?" she said softly, the moment she had swallowed the bit of cake.

Freed picked up her hand and traced the line of the vein on her wrist with his thumb.

"Yes, I told you that I would—try, that is."

"You also said you'd be patient." She met his eyes as though to challenge his lack of patience, but her slight shiver when his fingers continued to stroke the soft skin just below her palm detracted somewhat from her protest.

Her green-haired lover—in the more old-fashioned sense of the word, at least for now—smiled in a way that made her bite her lower lip. Somehow, they had gone from discussing an annoying piece of unwanted publicity to… this.

"I said that I _can_ be patient," Freed told her, his thumb still tracing those oddly electric patterns on her inner wrist. "And if I thought that I was bothering you now—in a negative way—then I _would_ be patient. Moreover, I _have_ been patient."

Mirajane was always both irritated and captivated by the way that Freed could make her feel young and rather inexperienced at times like these. In fact, she _was_ young—barely into her early twenties, although she managed to maintain an appearance of wisdom and maturity that fooled even those who knew better—and she _was_ inexperienced in terms of serious relationships. As a teenager she'd been wild and decidedly dangerous to those around her; after her sister had died, she'd reformed into a sexy but untouchable sister-mother figure to the majority of the guild and perhaps Magnolia as a whole.

"I did agree to look for a place together," she ventured, trying vainly to ignore her flushed cheeks and the warmth she could feel spreading outward from where Freed was touching her. "And we'd only been seeing each other for three months at the time!"

"Yes, and I am very happy about that. However, I have come to the conclusion that we are both too domestic—and likely too particular—to find what we want in the apartments and smaller places that we've been looking at."

"What do you mean?"

Before answering the question, Freed leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mira's. It began as a simple kiss, but her lips had already been slightly parted and he took ruthless advantage of that to explore her mouth with his tongue, so that the kiss quickly became deeper and oddly more intense than in the past. Freed's hand slid further up Mira's arm and she felt the strange electric feeling travel with it, as if there were more than mere finger-tips and nerve-endings involved. A few minutes passed, and then Freed felt Mira start to tense. Without being in any way abrupt, he gently ended the kiss and slowly leaned back, folding his hands together so as to resist any further temptation. For now.

"Thank you," Freed said quietly.

Mirajane didn't respond at first. She was staring down at the table as though fascinated by the well-polished wood. Then she shook her head and looked up. Her whole face felt warm and was probably red.

"That was… different. Why?"

"Power—I think. You don't entirely believe me, but I have done my best to… mute things a little. While we got used to each other. I suppose that magic calls to magic—we can both sense spell energy after all—and ours is somewhat aligned. The effect is becoming more pronounced as we become more comfortable together; I don't know why. I noticed it a couple of months ago."

"I didn't."

"I can't fully explain it. I suggest that I am more open to you than you are to me—which is only reasonable in the circumstances. I have hurt you and your family."

"Then I still need to move past the past—so to speak." Mira did not look wholly convinced. After all, she was the one who had originally convinced Freed that his actions on Laxus' behalf had not destroyed their relationship as friends and guild mates.

"Mira…" Freed hesitated. He didn't want to lose her. Reluctantly, he tried to put into words the idea that had come to him over the past few weeks. "You've let me become close to you. Now you've agreed to live with me—if we can find the right place. But I feel as though I'm fighting a constant, silent battle. You really don't like to acknowledge your demon powers, and I won't let you forget them."

"I thought we already talked about that." Mirajane shifted uncomfortably.

"We did. But you are going out with me _despite_ how you feel, not because you are comfortable with your powers. I believe you'll get there—you are already less anxious—but until you can tell yourself that's it's alright and you won't hurt anyone by mistake, you're going to… hold back with me."

Once again, Mira fidgeted. She was intelligent and capable of honest self-analysis; Freed's argument had some merit.

"What does this have to do with getting an apartment?"

Freed had to resist the urge to pace.

"As I said before, oddly enough, demon powers or not, we're both rather domestic creatures." He smiled wryly. "Evergreen and Bickslow are both far more exotic beings than I am, when it comes to creating a space that is a home—not to mention knowing how to cook or tidy. And if you tell me that Elfman has a desire to create gourmet meals then I'll believe you, but I'd be surprised. Or does he have a flair for interior design of which I was unaware?"

That drew a reluctant smile from Mirajane. She nodded in agreement with Freed's assessment.

"In comparison to our families," Freed continued, "you and I secretly want a rather traditional place, with an excellent kitchen, room to entertain, enough space for both guests and our own interests…"

Mirajane laughed out loud. "And a garden and a koi pond?"

"And a fenced yard for the children."

Mira turned noticeably pink again. "It's a little too soon to talk about that," she said in a low voice.

"I agree. That or even the rest of it, maybe, but I think the image is there in our heads already and that's why the apartments and so on aren't satisfying to look at." Freed tilted his head at her. "Since I seem to be pressing my luck anyway, I will complete my analysis. I think you are conflicted: the idea of throwing yourself whole-heartedly into creating your own home and family makes you want more than a utilitarian place to live; however, the idea of being closely involved with me on a day-to-day basis still scares you."

"I'm _not_ afraid of you, Freed!"

"I know." Freed sighed. "I don't think that fear of me—in the obvious sense—is the problem. Either way, I apologize for upsetting you. Besides, I may be completely wrong, and we just haven't found the right place yet."

He rose, took one of Mirajane's hands back, and bowed.

"Freed…" For some reason, Mirajane felt her irritation with the man dissolve again. The strength in his hands and the way that he somehow conveyed both restrained power and the desire for intimacy almost made her shiver again.

"I have reason to believe that Elfman will be out this evening," said Freed in a light tone. "Although it is incredibly presumptuous to invite myself over, may I join you for dinner this evening? If you think that the guild can do without you for an hour or two?"

"I wish Elf wasn't so fascinated by Evergreen," Mirajane replied rather petulantly. When Freed remained silent, she added: "Yes, I'd be happy make dinner for you this evening, even though it _is_ a strange request from a person as consistently polite as you are. I'll find somebody to look after things here."

"Thank you, Mira. I'll see you later, then."

* * *

 **[II]—Intimate Discussions**

* * *

Freed surveyed the Strauss family home with a slightly sardonic expression. Mirajane and her siblings had been in Magnolia since she was thirteen, during which time they had lived for the most part at the guildhall. The house was fairly new; or more precisely, they hadn't had it for long. Mirajane had bought it about a year ago, when earnings from her modelling jobs had begun to add up. It wasn't especially large, but it was located in what realtors referred to as a "desirable location": an older neighbourhood close to the center of town with full-grown trees and more space between houses than could be found anywhere else. There was a small but pretty garden, and the yard was fenced, although there was no koi pond.

Smiling at the pond idea, Freed walked up the short flight of stairs to the front door, which opened at his approach. Mirajane was wearing a short summer dress in some kind of soft material, and her feet were bare. Freed was pleased that he'd judged correctly: he'd left his usual coat and boots at home in favour of black trousers and a wine-coloured vest over a white dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned and the cuffs loosely folded up. He was gratified to see Mira's eyes widen with surprised approval.

"Come in, Freed… And you needn't look so smug; I freely admit that I like your outfit."

"That isn't going to stop me from looking smug, Mira," her guest replied, kissing her cheek and taking his shoes off inside the door. "After all, I get to have dinner—alone—with you, and you like the clothes I chose for the evening. What man wouldn't feel smug?"

"A more polite man might conceal his smugness," Mirajane suggested, her blue eyes twinkling a little.

"Alas, it isn't exactly politeness I have in mind this evening." Freed pulled his hostess against him in a tight embrace and kissed her firmly on the lips.

"Or food?" Mirajane said with a slight gasp a minute or two later.

"Food would be very welcome," Freed demurred. "I merely wanted to advise you of my intentions ahead of time, so that there was no misunderstanding."

"You didn't even bring flowers or, or _anything_!"

"True. I invited myself to dinner and brought no gifts. That way, you can't accuse me of trying to bribe you or make you feel guilty or indebted."

Mirajane smacked him lightly on the upper arm and tried to look affronted. "I assure you that I don't feel either guilty or indebted when a dinner guest brings me a small gift or a bottle of wine or something of that kind."

"Ah, but you still have my flowers," Freed pointed out.

"Yes, and although they continue to look lovely—I assume you put some kind of arcane runes on them—I think it's time for new ones! Or are you short of money?"

Mirajane immediately reddened and looked flustered, since she knew that Freed had been working hard to repay the guild and the town of Magnolia for the repairs necessary to both after the battle for Fairy Tail. Freed ignored her consternation, however.

"I am not short of money. Since I denied myself the pleasure of your company for over three months, and have remained busy in the—almost—four months that we've been seeing each other, I am entirely free of debt and then some. However,"—he spoke over Mirajane's attempt to apologize for her question—"I do intend to buy you new flowers, just as soon as we decide on a home together. In the meantime, the original roses serve to remind you of our discussion on the matter."

Mirajane stopped trying to cut in. Instead, she frowned slightly, and tried to shift away so that she could look up at him. When his arms didn't move, and proved as yielding as steel bars, the best she could do was resist the desire to snuggle in closer. It was annoyingly difficult not to.

"I don't need the reminder," she told him at last.

"Excellent. Then let's talk about it over dinner, shall we?"

"You're still trying to get me into bed, aren't you?"

"Yes. I believe that came up during the same discussion. But in perfect seriousness, if you want me to desist, you just need to ask."

Mirajane huffed, but didn't say anything more, so Freed let go of her and followed her into the kitchen. The food smelled wonderful, and it was clear that dessert was baking in the oven.

"I was going to suggest that we eat in here," Mirajane said, "but it's a little warm, I'm afraid. Not that either of us seems to mind the heat much. At least, I don't, and I assume you don't since you normally wear a coat on all occasions."

Freed regarded the good-sized kitchen with its comfortable eating area. It was appropriate to the suggestion he wanted to make over dinner.

"I can create a slightly cooler area that won't be affected by the heat from the cooking, if you don't mind setting the table."

"Showing off?" Mirajane teased.

"No, just being practical."

A short time later, they were eating Mira's wonderful dinner in perfect comfort, only the tiniest distortion indicating the location of Freed's magic. Soft music accompanied dinner, issuing from a shimmering lacrima crystal that was itself a piece of art.

"Alright Freed, you've managed to get things more or less the way you want them, I suspect, so what is it that you want to discuss?" Mirajane fixed her guest with a wary gaze.

Freed finished his mouthful of food without haste.

"I think that we should live here," he said simply. "You have already chosen this place, and I like it very much, so why not?"

Mirajane looked startled and then upset.

"But… Elf lives here and I'm not going to tell him to leave! You can't expect me to!"

Freed nodded his understanding.

"Of course I don't expect you to tell him to leave, but have you considered how he feels? I know you are very close, but he may appreciate his own freedom, you know. Especially if he has his own, ah, interests to pursue. It should have occurred to me sooner, but he's the one who should have an apartment, not us. I can assure you that Evergreen is not in a hurry to settle down."

"Thank goodness," muttered Mirajane.

Freed ignored the interpolation.

"More wine?"

"No thank you!" Then Mirajane discovered that her glass was empty, and with a sense of capitulation, she handed it to Freed. "Alright… That is, yes please."

He filled the glass in silence, along with his own.

"If Elfman dislikes the idea—if he would rather stay here—then I'll come up with something else," he promised, once Mirajane had sipped at her wine.

"I… suspect that won't be necessary," she admitted. "He was as resistant as he could be when I bought the place—which isn't saying much, but I know I overrode his preference to stay at the guildhall. And if I present it to him as something that I want, so that any money I give him up front is just a small thing compared to the rent I'd otherwise have to pay…"

"I'm still surprised you went looking at apartments with me, given that you had this lovely house," Freed told her.

She grinned at him. "You caught me at a weak emotional moment—it had been a trying day."

"Of course."

"And I liked your idea of living together."

"In concept or in reality?"

"Both. I promise."

"Then you will consider my idea?"

"I'll speak to Elfman about it tomorrow. He said he'd likely be home late tonight."

"He will be." Freed spoke with some certainty. Evergreen might not be wholly reconciled to the idea of her team leader being involved with "Little Miss Perfect" (her words, of course), but she was fond enough of Freed—and loyal enough—not to stand in his way. Besides, she liked to torment Elfman without having to admit to herself that she wanted to spend time with him.

"I see." Mirajane frowned, but forbore to cast further aspersions on the Raijinshū's capricious female team member.

She cleared the dinner dishes and took dessert out of the oven to cool. Freed watched her patiently as she made coffee for herself and tea for him, understanding her need for space and occupation while she mulled things over. She liked his idea, he thought. And if they wanted a bigger place someday—since the house only had three bedrooms—they could worry about it then. He knew Mirajane very well, and she would want children sooner rather than later.

Meanwhile, he had more immediate hopes and dreams, but he had already pushed the limits of acceptable behaviour. He allowed himself to be guided into the cosy living room, and sipped his tea while Mirajane described her most recent modelling assignment, and the sleazy photographer who had needed reminding that she was a Fairy Tail mage. Freed smiled appreciatively at the end result, but added the photographer's name to a short mental list of people with whom to have pointed discussions.

"I only have half your attention!" Mirajane protested at that point.

"You have my full attention," replied Freed with perfect truth.

He rose from the armchair to which he'd been directed and set down his plate and cup. His long green hair had been tied back into a low ponytail but his bangs still fell around his face—and over his right eye—as usual. Mirajane caught her breath and then hurried to stand up. Every now and then, she found herself partially mesmerized by how he _looked_ and it was annoying that it seemed to be happening more often lately. She had expected the effect to lessen as she got to know him better. It gave her insight into the effect that she had on others, since his style of beauty was not unlike her own, but that didn't help her to feel less shallow—or less vulnerable.

"You're leaving already?" she asked, puzzled and relieved and disappointed.

"You are holding me at a distance. I am trying my utmost to become closer to you. It isn't an ideal situation. As you reminded me, I promised to be patient."

"But…" Mirajane frowned. Every way she looked at it, he was correct. She was holding him at a distance even though she wanted to be with him. It did suggest that she was afraid. She didn't like—the realization finally crystallized—she _truly_ didn't like not being in control of how she felt.

Despite his best intentions, Freed couldn't resist the somehow woebegone expression on Mirajane's lovely face. She looked bewildered and he had some idea why. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

"You'll sort it out. The thing is… I don't really want to seduce you. I don't even want to find out if that's possible. I want to hold you, and touch your skin, and make love to you—because that's what we both want. Shared love, shared responsibility, shared vulnerability. For people with power I think it generally comes down to that."

He could tell that the words made sense to her. Her slim hands reached up to brush the hair out of his face and he reflexively closed his eyes. His right eye was… troubling… to look at. When she leaned into him, arms now around his neck to balance herself, he let go of her shoulders and allowed his hands to rest lightly on her hips. He was surprised when she kissed his neck rather his lips, but kept his eyes closed, enjoying the sensation.

"Stay for a bit longer, please. I'm sure that your patience hasn't entirely run out, has it?"

"No—ah, no, it hasn't run out. Yes, if you want me to stay I will."

They sat on the couch after that, or rather, Freed sat on the couch and pulled Mirajane onto his lap. He put his arms around her but otherwise left her to choose what to do next. She continued to kiss his neck, and then his ears and finally what she could she see of his shoulders. Somehow he managed to stay still throughout, although he could hear his heart hammering in his chest. He felt his whole body tense when her fingers unbuttoned his vest and most of his shirt, but other than shifting to accommodate reactions that he couldn't possibly help, he didn't move.

His eyes were closed, partly to give his lover a strange semblance of privacy, partly because he thought that if he could see then his control might slip beyond recall. Soft hands traced the muscles and bones of his chest and warm lips trailed along his left collarbone. Unlike Mirajane, he had no difficulty at all in feeling the quasi-electrical sensation of magical power rising along his skin. When surprisingly sharp teeth marked his shoulder he gasped out loud and then gently took Mira's face between his hands.

"That… Wait." He pressed his forehead against hers in an attempt to recover enough breath—and wits—to speak coherently. Her hands remained pressed against his ribs, but she didn't move. Finally, he opened his eyes and smiled ruefully at her. "Well."

"I know I didn't hurt you," Mirajane told him, expression torn between concern and amusement. Her cheeks were flushed, but mostly she appeared to be smug.

"No, not at all." The rapidly darkening bruise on his left shoulder might suggest otherwise, but Freed felt no pain. At least, not there; elsewhere, his clothing was very much too tight and he was distinctly uncomfortable.

"I never really realized that people could blush with their whole bodies," Mirajane mused thoughtfully.

"Mmm. More blood in the capillaries. Shows up more if you have fair skin, too."

"You have nice skin."

"Thank you. So do you."

"You should know, since you've seen most of it; I've modelled all sorts of swimsuits. You, on the other hand, are almost always overdressed." Mirajane's tone was teasing, but Freed could also hear the warring emotions underneath: desire and fear, although the fear was much less pronounced than it had been.

"I find myself overdressed right now, but I suppose that's not the same."

The flush on her cheeks darkened and she looked away. "… No, not quite the same."

"Have you concluded that you can wrap me around your little finger with a few well-placed kisses?" Freed asked, turning her face back toward his.

"Not exactly," Mirajane responded slowly, meeting his eyes—which was saying something, since he could tell that both were visible. "But I'll admit that you've somehow managed to convince me that we should have our own home."

"I thought I'd already convinced you of that?"

"Yes… in a general way. But now I realize that we need our own place because we really need more privacy."

"Ah."

"Not that I didn't already understand that we need more privacy but—look, can you just drop this?"

"Sure."

"And stop looking so smug!"

Freed raised an eyebrow.

"The woman I'm in love with is sitting in my lap and just half undressed me. It's difficult not to feel a least a little smug. Besides, that is very much the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't you say?"

"My pots are all steel-coloured."

"So's my kettle." Suddenly Freed blinked and looked alarmed. "… Mira…!"

With characteristic stubbornness—at least, Erza would have called it that, if nobody else—Mirajane had twisted so that she was kneeling across Freed's legs, her white hair concealing her face as she used lips and teeth to put a second, matching bruise on Freed's right shoulder. The slight hoarseness in his voice didn't escape her sharp ears, and she was pleased with the effect. Suddenly strong hands grasped her upper arms and pulled her upright, so that they were facing each other again.

"This isn't a game," Freed told her flatly. "Or at least, not one that we can safely play right now. Do you understand? I want you to touch me because you want to: not to establish dominance, not because you're afraid, not because you have something to prove."

There was a long, long silence after that.

"I understand," Mirajane said eventually, very quietly.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Freed immediately apologized. He had already relaxed his grip on her arms.

"Why is this so complicated? Honestly, it's not like this in the books."

"Those would be the books with the half-naked men and women on the covers?"

Mirajane giggled, suddenly sounding a lot more like herself. Freed relaxed a little.

"Yes… Erza and Cana get them—okay, and I do too—and we trade them around. Cana always gets the more explicit ones, and well… there's not much of a plot…"

Fairy Tail's fair-haired girl (so to speak) smirked and reddened again, but without being especially embarrassed. Freed, on the other hand, clapped his hands over his ears.

"I don't want to know about it. Not if it involves Erza. Otherwise I'll say the wrong thing at the wrong time and who knows what will happen."

"Oh? More afraid of her than of me?"

"Yes: you actually care about me and I'd like to think that you would hesitate to damage me too severely if I accidentally embarrassed you."

Mirajane rolled her eyes, and then smiled.

"I care quite a lot, to be honest. So I guess you have a point." She hesitated, then added: "It may take a little while for me to sort things out with Elf and make sure it's okay. He'll grumble a lot about me living with you, even though he's kind of got his head around things more, now."

"I think you'll find him fairly tractable at the present time. He, ah, doesn't have much of a leg to stand on, you know, from a moralistic point of view."

"… I'd rather not think about that, but I suppose it's true. All I was going to say, though, is that if we wait to have this place entirely to ourselves then it could be a few days or a few weeks."

"True," Freed said neutrally.

"And the man I love is sitting here partly-undressed and rather dishevelled and it seems a shame to waste the opportunity."

"Really?" The man in question could feel his heart beat accelerate again, as Mirajane began to run a hand gently down his neck and along his collarbone. Her other hand was working on the last two buttons of his shirt, which she had liberated from his trousers.

"Yes. I don't get to see you dishevelled very often, Freed. It's rather disturbingly attractive."

"Probably because you know that it's only with you."

"That could be true." Mirajane finally managed to undo the last of the shirt buttons, and she paused to admire her handiwork before running both hands along Freed's flat stomach and up across his ribs. "Or maybe I'm just infatuated."

"I don't think it's infatuation. Lust maybe. Love and lust together aren't a bad thing, you know."

"I'm relieved to hear it. There are a lot of conflicting messages out there, though. So I might still get a little anxious from time to time…"

"I can live with that," Freed said. "I never expected things to be simple. I just wanted a chance to resolve the complications."

He shifted his legs onto the couch and settled himself more comfortably against the soft armrest. Then he pulled Mira down against his chest and ran his hands down her back and over her hips, brushing his fingertips across the tops of her bare legs. When that seemed to be acceptable, he brought his hands back to her face and smiled.

"So it's okay to tell me to stop, right?"

"I know. I'm not a child."

"I am in no way treating you like a child," Freed pointed out.

Mirajane kissed him, lightly at first and then more emphatically. "True," she said, once they were both rather out of breath.

"The only other thing I was going to add," murmured Freed, "is that unless you do tell me to stop sooner rather than later, I would prefer to go somewhere with a door."

"Just in case of jealous lovers, brothers, that kind of thing?"

"No. For that kind of thing, I recommend magic wards. For a basic sense of privacy, a door is sufficient."

Mirajane laughed and managed to snuggle closer. "Let's just stay here for a bit, okay? Then we'll see."

 **[To be continued…]**

* * *

 **Note:** Reviews and comments (even short ones) would be much appreciated. I enjoyed writing this chapter, which sets the stage for the next (and concluding) chapter. Unfortunately, I was unable to put everything together in as short a time as I'd hoped (i.e., during Mirafreed Week itself).


	4. Proposition and Proposal

**Author's Note:**

My final piece for this story. I hope that you enjoy it! I'm sorry that I'm done, to be honest, as this has gone far better than I expected, for the most part.

Please note that this chapter is **specifically rated M** and has significant sexual content.

~Impracticaldemon

* * *

 **Chapter 4—First Steps: Proposition and Proposal**

 **Prompt: Happiness**

* * *

 **[I] - Together**

* * *

Freed was watching Mirajane through half-closed eyes, enjoying the sensation of being admired by the woman he most wanted to want him. Mirajane was stretched out across the length of his body, pressing him down into the soft dark leather of her living room couch. He knew without looking that right now her fingers were tracing the thin white lines of the scars that were scattered across his torso, most of them faint, a few new enough to be clearly visible. _We take a lot of abuse as mages_ , he thought. It was a good thing that magical power also conferred a supernatural resistance to physical damage.

"I probably inflicted some of these," Mirajane murmured, obviously thinking of their vicious mid-air battle almost six months earlier.

In order to save her brother from Freed, she had transformed into her demon form, complete with claws that could easily rend simple cloth and flesh. Fortunately, Freed had assumed a demonic form as well in order to withstand her attacks. Though their abilities were not identical, they both relied on darkness magic for much of their power; consequently, they both understood the components of fear, pain and destruction in a more personal way than most of Fairy Tail's mages. Neither of them had walked away from the fight without injuries, but Freed's had been distinctly worse.

Freed was relieved when Mirajane didn't apologize for whatever damage she had done. He didn't want her to feel badly for using the only possible power at her disposal that could have stopped him from killing Elfman at the time. In fact, he didn't want her to feel ashamed or afraid of her Demon Soul magic at all; that would take time, but he fully intended to have that time with her.

Her hands on his chest—and shoulders and neck and especially his abdomen—left lines of energy that caused his skin to feel _charged_. It seemed to be how he perceived the contact between the semi-dormant magical power that infused both of them and loaned them the extra strength and resilience for which mages were known. Whatever the cause, it only added to his body's state of arousal. He wanted to feel her skin—her soft breasts, firm belly, strong legs—against his own very much.

"Freed?" Mirajane's voice recalled his wandering thoughts, the undercurrent of laughter indicating that she understood his lack of focus.

"I was just thinking that mages get hurt a lot—at least, those of us who take on the less ordinary missions."

"That more or less describes the job board at Fairy Tail," Mirajane pointed out, with a smile. "Are you saying that you're thinking about work right now?"

"No, I was watching—and appreciating—the way your hands touch my skin. The rest was inconsequential. To be perfectly honest, I was wondering how best to undress you."

"Oh."

Apparently, Mirajane could still be caught off-guard by directness from time to time. Freed watched a faint blush spread across her face—not for the first time that evening—and he wondered again how it was possible for a woman who read explicit romance novels (supposedly borrowed from Cana), and who posed in tiny bikinis for modelling jobs, to be this shy. It showed just how well she had isolated herself from any romantic or sexual attachments since taking on the role of Fairy Tail's hostess and perfect older-sister/mother figure. It had taken Freed quite a long time to realize that she constantly held people at a distance without seeming to.

He levered himself partly upright, so that his elbows, still trapped in the sleeves of his white shirt, were propped on the arm of the couch. Mira protested being moved, but although she was heavier than she looked (and much stronger), Freed had no difficulty shifting her so that she ended up kneeling across his thighs.

"You could help me with this shirt," he suggested.

"I could. You really do look ridiculously like a picture out of a magazine sold to panting fifteen-year-old girls."

"Well, if I have the misfortune to find myself on cheap lacrima crystals across Fiore I'll know who to blame," Freed replied mildly. "But are you sure that's what you want?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. I'd work out something much better staged and I wouldn't use cheap crystals."

Freed smiled to himself as Mira tugged first one and then the other of his shirtsleeves free. When the shirt slid to the floor, he paused to stretch and enjoy another kiss or two and then surprised Mira by gathering her up and standing. He was pleased that although he was definitely distracted, his usual coordination didn't fail him.

"Do you think I'd be worth the higher cost?" he inquired. "I do keep fit, at least."

"Ah… yes, I realize that." Mirajane's expression was a mixture of appreciative interest and the same apprehension that he had noticed earlier. "You're taking me upstairs to my room, aren't you?"

"Yes, unless you tell me not to. I am too much of a gentleman to take your dress off here, given that you have very little on underneath."

The lady in his arms laughed up at him. "I wouldn't describe your actions as _gentlemanly_ , exactly, Freed!"

"No?" Freed slid one hand experimentally along Mira's leg. "Perhaps not. You have wonderful legs, by the way."

"Thank you," Mirajane replied demurely. "Do you even know where you're going?"

"You have the back room on the second floor overlooking the garden and the non-existent koi pond," **[1]** her cavalier told her calmly, bending down to press his lips below her ear.

"I don't have a koi pond!"

"That's what I just said. On the other hand, you do have a garden and a fenced yard for the children, so the non-existence of the pond can be forgiven."

A half-open door exactly where he'd expected it led into Mirajane's room, and although he had distracted her with absurdities, he couldn't miss her sudden tension when he closed the door behind them and sat down on the edge of her bed with her still firmly held against his chest. The room looked right for her, somehow—all air and light wood and tidy spaces, and clearly feminine—but…

"You're going to have to tell me at some point, Mira," he said into the silky white hair not far from his face. "What's wrong? Nervous I can understand. But I don't think I've done anything to actually scare you, have I? I'm trusting you to let me know how you feel… I'm not perfect—not even close…" For the first time, he could hear frustration in his voice, and he stopped speaking, willing himself to wait.

The slim arms around his chest tightened and then relaxed. The face buried in his shoulder looked up, blue eyes anxious and resolute at the same time.

"I did… I did try to warn you. A little."

"That you might be a bit anxious—because the world has some expectations of you and maybe some double-standards. But that's not it." _Damn, damn, damn… what's wrong? What did I miss?_ He wished that she didn't feel so warm against him, or smell so good. And it didn't help that she obviously wanted to touch him—the electric sensation still followed her hands across his skin.

"Freed… Can we try something?"

Mirajane stood up and he reluctantly let her go. To his surprise, she didn't move far, but she did tug open the bow at the back of her light summer dress.

"Don't say anything, just—trust me?"

Taking her at her word, Freed nodded, rather bewildered. A moment later Mira tugged the short dress over her head and stood there in almost non-existent, lacy white panties and a matching bra that was clearly more for show than support. It was testament to hormones and emotion over reason that the effect was both immediate and intense, even though he'd seen (and admittedly enjoyed seeing) her in almost as little before. Bra and panties joined the dress on the floor and Freed heard an odd noise between a plea and a moan escape his lips.

Fortunately, before he could completely embarrass himself by just dragging her onto the bed (or down onto the floor, either would do), Mira turned slowly once—show-off!—and landed lightly on the bed beside him. When he automatically twisted toward her, he found that she was already pulling his mouth down against hers, fingers winding tightly into looser hair at the base of his skull. Reason fled entirely for a while, as he ran one hand up and around her back and the other across one soft, perfect breast, caressing and teasing. He pressed her down against the thin, summer-weight blanket—white, everything was too white in here—and moved his mouth down to the nipple of the other breast. The sound she made as he tasted the pink skin with his tongue and then sucked more firmly with his lips and teeth conjured every erotic fantasy he'd had about the two of them and made him suddenly very, very aware that he was still half-dressed.

He lifted his head and actually cursed, and it was that together with a silvery—and completely breathless—chuckle that finally made him shake his head and focus his attention on the (very naked and absolutely gorgeous) woman lying half under him. He stared down at her, closed his eyes, opened them again, and managed a shaky laugh of his own.

"Show-off," he muttered, voice not quite steady.

"No, oh no, Freed, just… please don't be upset—"

"I'm _not_ upset, except that I'm still _dressed_ —"

"Let me help—"

"That's not a problem—trust me—you will definitely—help..."

Freed stripped out of pants and boxers with commendable speed and no assistance. He even paused to admire his lover when he was done. Mira stared back at him with frank interest and appreciation.

"Well?" he asked. "Will I do?"

"Yes, sorry—"

Freed silenced the unnecessary—and unwanted—apology with a passionate kiss, most of his body covering hers. His hands caressed her belly and hips and breasts, and his legs tangled themselves in hers. Eventually he moved his mouth back to her breasts, and this time his fingers found the springy curls below her navel and between her legs and explored the folds hidden underneath.

Mira whimpered and twitched as insistent, capable hands and mouth and tongue made love to her body. At some point she found Freed's mouth on hers again, and managed a faint, panting protest:

"You… said… I would… help…"

"Yes. Trust me. You're amazing." He kissed her neck, and pressed his weight against her, rocking his hips so that he was grinding his hard length against her wet, sensitive center. They were watching each other now from beneath half-closed lids, breathing unsteady, hearts pounding.

"I do trust you. And—" Mira moaned as calloused fingertips pinched the tip of her left breast. She pressed her hips upward, craving more sensation.

"And?"

"—You're better than the books…"

Freed managed a brief laugh that was more like a puff of air and tried to stop moving in order to concentrate on a lingering kiss. "Mira? Is now okay?"

"Yes—gods, yes, can't you tell?!"

He didn't bother answering. He didn't even mind that his care had been met with impatience—impatience was permission not to worry quite so much. With incredible relief and more force than he'd intended, he found her entrance and drove himself into her, eyes closed and his whole attention on the sensation. The incredible, almost painful, pleasure; the promise of better still. The sound of his lover, _his_ , a dream made real. Her urgent cries drove him to move faster; her fingernails raking down his back made him gasp; her strong hips, rising hard against his, made him abandon all attempts at control.

 _Finally, finally, oh gods, finally…_ He thought he called her name, but he wasn't sure, the blood was deafening in his ears, his hands were on her hips, he convulsed, felt the heat and wet as he came, felt his lover's tightness around him shuddering, her hips still rising to meet his as he emptied himself into her. Then he brought his mouth and teeth down around one hard nipple, heard and felt her finally reach her climax, rocked with her, teased her through to the very end until they were both completely spent.

Time passed, and it occurred to Freed that he should move. He rolled to one side and lay there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the sweat finally starting to cool and evaporate from his body. His long fingers found Mirajane's and he moved a little closer, so that they were at least touching along the length of their bodies. It was very strange but he wasn't sure what to say.

"Thank you," Mirajane said softly.

Freed made a frustrated sound. "I'm—I don't quite know how to thank you. There aren't words _good_ enough." He sent his eyes sideways and saw that Mira was smiling—that was a good thing. "You are an amazing lover, and if it doesn't kill me, I hope to repeat this experience for many, many years to come."

Predictably, Mira snickered. Freed smacked his forehead with his other hand. "I was trying to be serious," he pointed out.

"I know, I know, sorry." Mirajane shook her head at the ceiling, as if it was giving her grief. "I'm just… a bit overwhelmed now and a bit embarrassed about earlier."

"… Are you going to tell me why? What happened, I mean?"

"Yes. Don't interrupt."

"…"

"When I went through my rebel phase as the Demon—or whatever you want to call my horrible adolescence—I had a crush on a guy because I thought he was… exciting, I guess. Why anybody growing up at Fairy Tail would need more excitement is beyond me now." Mirajane sighed, and then relaxed her shoulders and cuddled closer to Freed. "He was a bit older than I was, which wasn't difficult since I was only sixteen. I agreed to sleep with him. It wasn't great—which isn't exactly uncommon—and it hurt a bit… but that wasn't the problem in itself. The problem was that when he hurt me—not on purpose, just because he was pretty young himself and a bit impatient—I…" She stopped abruptly, looked at Freed, and nodded her permission to speak in response to his obvious wish to help her finish the sad little story.

"You accidentally transformed and hurt him back?" His voice and eyes—both blue at the moment—were deeply sympathetic.

"It was awful. You can't—well, maybe _you_ can imagine. I know you keep your eye covered for a reason—just in case. Anyway, he didn't die or anything, and fear of the guild—I mean, I was only just sixteen—meant that nobody involved spoke of it again. And also… I never told anyone _exactly_ what happened, just that we were messing around. Most people didn't hear about any of it."

"So this evening you thought that if things didn't go well—"

"Just losing control scares me—"

"You were afraid that you would attack me?" Freed was watching Mirajane intently now, not a trace of amusement left on his face.

"Or that I'd transform and you'd be completely disgusted or freaked out."

"I wouldn't. First of all, your magic has never disgusted me or freaked me out—and I remember your Demon phase." He touched her cheek to make sure that she wouldn't look away. "Second, I love you and I trust you. Third, I'm very much _in_ love with you. Fourth, I have a number of flaws, but I'm not a coward. Fifth, you are sexy either way."

"Freed."

"Look at me. You _have_ to know that I'd never joke about your fears."

Somewhat reluctantly, Mirajane brought her eyes back to Freed. He was absolutely serious.

"You're… _turned on_? _Really_? That's just… I don't know, Freed… _Really?_ "

"Really. Why not? Don't misunderstand me: I'd like to hurt the man who messed things up for you." There was nothing but menace in Freed's voice for a moment, but then he turned his full attention back to Mirajane. "I think you are beautiful in either form—any form—and one day I'll convince you of that. As I mentioned, I plan to spend a very long time with you."

"House, marriage, children?"

"Yes. If you'll have me."

Mirajane sat up so that she could look down at Freed. He returned her gaze steadily.

"You are one of the most fastidious men I know—maybe one of the only fastidious men I know—and you're proposing to me lying naked on my bed covered in sweat without even the energy to do more than turn your head?"

"I was just answering your question. I thought I would propose to you later. And I'm not all that tired anymore, either, I just like the possibilities of my current situation."

She didn't resist when Freed pulled her down on top of him and started running his tongue along her ear; as she had noted a few minutes earlier, he was unashamedly aroused again. The electric feeling of his skin against hers—of his contained magic against hers—made her nerves sing happily in anticipation.

* * *

 **[II] - Together Forever**

* * *

It was much, much later in the evening—the middle of the night, in fact—when they walked back downstairs to the living room, sleepy, satisfied and even clean following (according to Mirajane) the most relaxing bath of all time. They had done nothing more than bathe, actually, and admire the marks left on each other's fair skin after their lovemaking.

"I wish you weren't going," Mirajane said drowsily, perched on the edge of one of the large, comfortable chairs, watching Freed button up his shirt. She was wearing a soft, kimono-style dressing gown and nothing else other than a towel wrapped around her hair. Freed had washed her hair and massaged her scalp; she was secretly longing to get to do the same for him.

"I'm glad. That means you will want to find a place together—here or elsewhere—just as quickly as I do."

"True." Mira sighed, but it was a contented, happy sigh. Aside from anything else—and that was saying quite a lot—it was good to have the worst of the secrets shared and to discover that while there was still some anxiety, the old fear of rejection had greatly diminished.

Freed put on but didn't button his vest. In the low-lit room, he looked even more unusual and elfin than ever. He walked over to kneel in front of Mirajane and smiled up at her.

"I was quite serious earlier, you know," he said.

"About which part? You seem to have been serious—to one degree or another—about everything you've said this evening."

He opened his left hand to reveal a silvery ring set with a shimmering, faceted dark blue stone.

"About proposing, of course. You didn't seem averse to the idea this morning, and I always intended to. Mirajane, you are the most beautiful person I know and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Mirajane stared at him literally open-mouthed. Then she nodded her head violently, causing the towel to slide out of her hair and drop clumsily into her lap. She twisted her hands in it absently, tears visible at the edges of her eyes.

"You are—I mean, _yes, I'd like that very much_ —but you are—" Words failed her, so Freed decided to cover the awkward moment by slipping the ring onto her finger and kissing her.

When that was done, he sat back on his heels, hands still holding hers, looking—

"… Smug! You look smug again!" Mirajane was laughing and sniffling slightly at the same time.

Freed smiled apologetically. "I really, truly can't help right now. If ever a man deserved to feel smug, I am that man."

"And your proposal was lovely but _I was wearing a dressing gown! And I had a towel in my hair!_ "

"Yes. How could I resist? You looked stunning and adorable all at once."

"If you have an answer for everything for the rest of our lives together, then so help me I'm going to divorce you."

"Mira, think about it. You took your clothes off and I couldn't have constructed a complete sentence if my life had depended on it. Also… I do a _lot_ of planning. You do as well, but you're also more adventurous. I am absolutely certain that I will be caught off guard countless times over the next several years. I mean, I have no idea how to cope with babies or young children, so I expect that will provide you with amusement."

Mira ran her fingers through Freed's long green bangs.

"Speaking of children… we didn't really talk about that, did we? I don't mean hypothetically, I mean, um, about tonight?"

Freed looked down, reddening.

"I did actually plan for that, too," he said, sounding embarrassed. "I think a lot about the different ways I can use my magic, you see. It's quite flexible as long as I have enough time to set the rules."

"Oh. That's good then." Mirajane's tone was ambivalent.

"Ah, well, the problem is that I got distracted and,"—he bowed his head even further—"the truth is that I forgot. I'm very, very sorry. I've tried hard to make sure that any important decisions were choices that we made together."

"Ha! So there is one thing that didn't go according to your plan! Thank goodness! I feel strangely relieved, to be honest."

Freed's head jerked up. "You're relieved that you might be pregnant?"

"No! You know what I mean!" Mirajane whacked him lightly with the damp towel. "You're human! That's definitely a good thing."

"You know, Ever and Bix occasionally have the same reaction when I make a mistake."

"For once, I sympathize entirely with them. So… we're going to get married? And this ring is so pretty and I haven't even thanked you!"

"You could thank me properly tomorrow," Freed suggested.

"I suppose that's one way to drive my brother out of this house. He'll probably go back to the guildhall just in case of the _possibility_ of walking in on something…"

Freed stood up, pulling his fiancée to her feet. "We can talk it over tomorrow at tea." He kissed her, quietly exulting in the happy excitement on her face.

They walked hand-in-hand to the front door.

"I'm curious about one thing, though," said Mirajane thoughtfully, as they kissed each other goodnight.

"You want to know why I didn't just propose earlier, or at dinner, if I had the ring with me all along?"

"Yes. But"—Mirajane held up her hand to forestall his answer—"thinking about it now, I understand. It's all part of the same thing, isn't it?"

Freed nodded. "No threats, no bribes, no perception of entitlement—free choice and responsibility are very important to me."

"I can live with that."

"You've already agreed to."

Mirajane rolled her eyes. " _You are_ _so_ —"

"—Smug, I know. "

They grinned foolishly at each other. Eventually, they managed to exchange sufficient farewells to make parting a little easier. Freed walked off toward his usual home with his team, humming slightly, while Mirajane closed the door and went upstairs to plan how to announce things to friends and especially family. She couldn't quite stop smiling.

Outside, a very large, white-haired figure strolled across the road, leaving the black shadows of his temporary hiding place behind and grateful that they'd finally stopped necking in the doorway. Dark bruises running along both sides of his neck and down below his collar suggested that it had been a good night for the Strauss family all around.

"Oh well," Elfman muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door to the house. "At least I get to jump on the pieces if that green-haired bastard does anything to hurt her."

Thus reassured—somewhat—he turned in for the night as well.

* * *

 **[END]**

* * *

*[1] See chapter 3.

 **Thank you** to everyone who has taken the time to read, comment and review. I hope that the characters as presented have been interesting, or maybe been shown from a different angle, but still stayed true to key elements from Fairy Tail as a whole. \\(^u^)/ If you have a moment, please review/comment on this chapter or on the story as a whole! Your support is greatly appreciated.


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